


The Stars Don't Know Shit, My Friend

by awake0rdreaming



Series: Missed Thominhoweek Prompts [3]
Category: First chapter PG, The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Dom/sub Undertones, Hogwarts, Hogwarts AU, M/M, Rating Changed, ch 2 mild mature content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-24 15:25:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13216632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awake0rdreaming/pseuds/awake0rdreaming
Summary: It all started when Thomas got drunk and ended up locked out of his Common Room. Just his Wonderful  luck that a Slytherin found him.





	1. Chapter 1

Minho was heading towards the Room of requirements for a late night party—they’d won against Hufflepuff, but no one was all that surprised by the outcome—when he came across a cute boy lying on the floor at the bottom of a spiral staircase—that Minho knew was the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room—and who smelt faintly of alcohol.  
  
Normally Minho wouldn’t care, but today had been an _excellent_ day: He’d received top marks in Arithmancy and with the Quidditch win, he was feeling charitable.  
  
Walking closer to the boy, he nudged him with his shoe, “Hey you okay?”  
  
The Ravenclaw seeing what was poking him, shoved Minho’s foot aside, and sat against the banister with a huge amount of effort.  
  
“No. I’m not okay. Slightly buzzed..probably, but not drunk—“ he swayed a little to the side, and then reaching out a hand to the floor, steadying himself— “Okay maybe a little drunk..”  
  
The portrait on a landing nearby gave a disapproving snort.

“You’re locked out.” Minho surmised. He didn’t add a jib at the other boy’s lack of smarts, considering his house, because well…he was in the mood for some chatting. And he didn’t particularly _like_ partying on the weekdays, so he didn’t really care about being late.  
  
“I’m locked out,” the Ravenclaw bobbed his head in agreement then stopped abruptly, making a face when the motion made him dizzy.  
  
“I can help if you like?”  
  
“That’s awe—“ Thomas hiccuped “—fully generous of you, Slytherin.”  
  
“I’m a generous person.”  
  
“OR you want to know the common room password, so you and your friends can come back and create havoc for the house elves to clean up.”  
  
“I hadn’t thought about it, but that’s a great idea, thanks.” His companion rolled his eyes, dismissing his reply of all honesty. “So?”  
  
Thomas looked up at the plain grey ceiling, wondering if this was wise, but thought of being curled up in his warm bed won out. “Fine. But first, do you know a spell that can wake me up a little?”

Minho frowned wondering what he could use, when a wicked thought came to mind, “ _Aguamenti_! ”  
  
Thomas yelled as cold water emitted from Minho’s wand, soaking through his clothes. “You’re so—!”  
  
“You can make an elaborate revenge plan if you like?” Minho said, still smirking at the Ravenclaw’s frozen expression of shock.  
  
“You’re such a piece of shit!”  
  
Minho pretended to be surprised, “How did you know?”    
  
“Ugh. I changed my mind.” Thomas cradled his face in his palm, “Please leave.”  
  
Minho smirked, and just to annoy him, sat down beside the Ravenclaw, “I’m Minho.”  
  
“I don’t care.”  
  
“Okay, well very nice to meet you anyways,”  
  
“Charmed.” Thomas deadpanned “Now are you going to help me or what?”  
  
“What’s the riddle?”

“ ‘ _My first is a creature whose breeding is unclear_ ,” Thomas began, “ _My second, a price you have to pay. My whole can be found in the river of time, and refers to the events of today._ ” Thomas looked at the taller of the two, “ _What am I?’_ ”

“Slow, drunk, sleepy,” Minho supplied unhelpfully, eyes glinting with something Thomas couldn’t give two shits to find out.  
  
He rolled his eyes, but still replied back, “You forgot nauseous.”  
  
“My bad.”  
  
They lapsed into silence after that, Thomas’ mind dipping into philosophical discussions with himself, and Minho, actually thinking about the riddle.  
  
“…can be found in the river of time..But is it ‘Time’ or…?” He turned towards the other boy and realized the Ravenclaw wasn’t interested in the ‘two heads instead of one,’ thing—eyes closed, and rubbing his forehead tiredly. “Oh Kay..just me now..”  
  
Running the riddle through his mind again and again, one part seemed to stick in his head. “My whole can be found in the river…refers to the—“ Minho’s eyes widened.  
  
He knew the answer.  
  
But should he share? One more look over at the Ravenclaw, and Minho decided against it. He didn’t want to attend the party anyways. This would pass the time nicely…  
—  
“So what’s your name?”  
  
“I thought you were here to help me, not hit on me.” Thomas said, his mouth running ahead of his brain.

“Right,” _Minho_ squinted his eyes, as he seemed to be thinking about the riddle.  
Thomas frowned. Now why did that name sound so familiar? In the midst of trying to figure out who his ‘good samaritan’ was, Thomas’ eyes fell onto Minho, mouthing the words to the riddle over and over again.  
   
Thomas watched as he did so, only half waiting for the answer to the password. The first reason…Well, let’s just say, he was finding it harder and harder to keep his mind out of the gutter.

Snapping fingers in front of his face, jerked him from his thoughts. Thank _God_ , because they were heading into dangerous R rated territory and Thomas started to feel too warm, realizing he’d probably been staring.  
  
At Minho’s lips.  
  
“What?”

“I _said_ , what’s your name?”  
  
“Thomas,” he replied immediately, looking around him so he could get more distance between them.

The Slytherin was hot as _fuck_ , and whatever doubts Thomas had about his sexuality, flew right out the window. He didn’t trust himself all that much, right now, so he opted for sitting on the third step, while Minho stayed seated on the floor, and prayed he wouldn’t blurt out something embarrassing.  
  
“Like that isn’t the most common ass name in the world. Thomas what?”  
  
“Thomas Editton. You want my star sign too?” he asked sarcastically.  
—  
Minho grinned. Yes!! He would love to know what Thomas’ star sign was. He was really big on astrology and all that, but the chances of coming off as creepy were high. He had to be cool, smooth. Which was no problem; he’d had loads of practice.  
  
“Editton…” Minho frowned, recognizing the last name, “Are you by any chance related to that Quidditch—“  
  
“He’s my uncle.” Thomas interrupted, voice bordering on boredom, like he got asked that a lot, and was fed up with it. Minho figured he could still continue in the Quidditch route knowing the brunette was a Beater for the Ravenclaw team, but Thomas’ displeasure was hard to miss. Plus, Thomas here might think he was digging for information—it was no secret the Slytherin captaincy was passed down to Minho.  
  
“Hmm. So how did you get yourself into this predicament?”

“Wouldn’t you _love_ to know.”  
  
“Yes. Which is why I’m asking, you buffoon.”  
  
Thomas glared at Minho, but conceded, “Made a bet with a Gryffindor,”  
  
“Ah!” Minho shook his head. “I’m guessing you don’t drink much.”  
  
Thomas scowled. “So?”  
  
“You should at least decide on a ‘loser has to’ with something that is risky enough, but won’t get you expelled. Then again, you Ravenclaws are always so overconfident.”  
  
“Excuse you—“

“Seriously, _why_ would you make a _drinking_ bet with a Gryffindor? Don’t you know they always sneak in Firewhiskey every year?”  
  
“That’s against school rules!” Thomas said louder than he meant to, and slapped both hands over his mouth, in shock. They both stilled, wary to be found. He guessed Minho deemed them safe enough, because he started back the conversation where they’d left of.

“Like _that’s_ ever stopped a Gryffindor. But on the flip side, maybe if we picked up our game, they would lose a lot more—and hence..less parties…less drinking.”  
  
“Hence.” Thomas echoed, wary that they had strayed to the topic of Quidditch. He was only too aware that he wasn’t his best right now. Minho’s lips were still enticing him, especially now, with Minho chewing on his bottom lip.  
  
“So, do you believe talent is genetic?”  
  
“What.” Thomas wasn’t expecting this. Of all things… Was this guy seriously chatting him up?  
  
Minho raised an inquiring eyebrow, “You want me to repeat the question, or elaborate?”

“Uh..” Thomas floundered for a second, “um..elaborate.” He was so confused right now. This felt so surreal, _chatting_ with a Slytherin.  
  
“Well to be good at a sport, it takes a lot of practice, determination, muscle building and what-not, right? Having an aptitude for sports is one thing, being built for it, is another. I mean, every person is built differently, so how can it be genetic?”  
  
Thomas slowly blinked at Minho in surprise, “Are you sure you’re Slytherin?”  
  
Minho shot him an annoyed look, but before Thomas could explain, they heard voices coming down the corridor.

“ _Shiiiit!!_ ”  Thomas swore. There went his perfect record; Teresa was going to gloat so much now, because this setback put her ahead of him. He wondered how severe a punishment being wasted would get him..or would they really expel him as Minho said?  
  
“Get up you shank!!” Minho hissing in his ear, brought him back. Thomas felt himself being yanked to his feet, then pushed behind a tapestry, Minho slapping a hand over Thomas’ mouth to muffle the yelp he let out when his back hit the concrete wall.

Thomas held his breath as two Prefects making rounds passed them before turning the corner. Minho dropped his hand only when the footsteps stopped echoing. Thomas couldn’t see anything in the dark, only hear shallow breathing in front of him, as Minho leaned a hand against the wall beside Thomas’ head.  
  
“That…was very close,” Thomas swallowed. Minho was _also_ very close, too close. Why was he standing so close? Minho didn’t have enough height to loom—Thomas was plenty tall, thank you very much—but standing in the dark, Thomas sure felt like he did. Why was he leaning even closer to him?  
  
Thomas flattened himself against the wall, but all Minho did was whisper four words, before leaving a bewildered Thomas behind the tapestry, his steps fading away.

 _The answer is, Current._  
—

The next day was hell for Thomas. Everything was so fucking _bright_ , not to mention the pounding headache he was suffering. He pulled the covers over his head, not wanting to face the day like this, but his stomach wouldn’t have any of it, and the hunger won out. Hunger always won out.  
  
Breakfast was spend at the end of the long table in the Great Hall, because it was the only seat that wasn’t bathing in sunlight, and he wanted nothing more than brood and eat his meal in silence. His friends didn’t let him though.  
  
“You knew it was a bad idea, but you did it anyways,” Teresa was saying, “Hopefully this will serve as a lesson to stop picking fights with Gally. Honestly, it’s a miracle you came to your room in one piece, so count yourself lucky, Thomas.”  
  
Thomas said nothing, eyes flickering over to the table on the other end of the hall, eyes resting on the Slytherin Captain. Not for the first time he wondered how long Minho had known the answer to the riddle. And why had he chosen to help Thomas to begin with?  
  
Minho was eating his food quietly, grinning as someone sitting beside him, nudged his ribs, like they were teasing him about something. As Thomas watched on, a girl with short black hair put her arm around Minho’s shoulder, whispering something in his ear. Minho frowned, and then suddenly he looked right at Thomas, who quickly dropped his gaze to his porridge.  
  
Thomas listened to his friends talking—luckily not talking about him anymore—and then slowly turned his attention back to Minho.  
  
Thomas had never cared about the rumours surrounding the Slytherin Captain, because it hadn’t mattered. Only beating Slytherin at Quidditch had mattered. Now he wondered if it was true what they said about him. Was it really a thing that you could like both genders? Not that this changed anything, because why would Minho’s sexual orientation be any intere—

Bright light blinded Thomas a second later, and Thomas yelped slamming his eyes shut. “Ugh, fucker!!” he groaned.  
  
“Ex _cuse me_?” Teresa scowled, and Thomas realized belatedly that he’d said that a lot louder than he’d meant to.  
  
“No, not _you_ , **him**.” Thomas gestured at the Great Hall vaguely, not in a hurry to tell his friends about Minho. They’d think he was pulling one on them, saying a senior from Slytherin no less, helped him when he was drunk. A really hot Slytherin, that he was so very clearly developing a crush on.  
  
_Fuck._  
—

Thomas was restless and quite irritated by the time the weekend approached. He wanted so badly to confront Minho—know his motive, but he was a year younger than him so they had no classes together. The only time a talk was possible, was at meals which was too public, or the grounds in the afternoons, which was also very public.  
  
By Saturday Thomas decided maybe he should talk to someone about it. His friends weren’t interested however, Thomas’ foul, snappish mood having driven them away. With a sigh, Thomas walked onto the sunny grounds on his own, and leaned against a secluded tree close to the water. The warm summer breeze made the curtain of leaves around him flutter, hiding him from view.  
  
It was surprising then, how Minho managed to find him.  
—  
“Are you following me?”

Minho laughed at Thomas’ question. “Funny that coming from _you_ ,” he said, knowing Thomas would catch his meaning. The boy hadn’t stopped tracking him with his eyes during meal times. All his friends had noticed by now, and were getting suspicious of Thomas.  
  
They stood side by side quietly, until Thomas asked, “How was your week?”  
  
“I don’t do small talk, Thomas. Why don’t you just say what you’ve been dying to say?”  
  
Minho watched his face, as Thomas looked down at his shoes, uncertain. Just as he got tired of waiting, Thomas spoke.  
  
“You knew the answer.”  
  
“So? Slytherin's cant be smart, now?”

“No, they can’t, their supposed to be evil!” Thomas snapped at him. Minho pursed his lips, getting the message. Thomas didn’t actually believe that, he just needed to say his peace—or at least have a calm conversation.  
  
When he was sure Minho wasn’t going to make fun of him, Thomas asked, what he’d been wondering this whole time, “Why...why did..you stay?”  
  
“I—“ Minho thought back to that night, was it a Tuesday? “I was in a good mood.”  
  
“Oh.” Thomas said softly.  
  
Minho thought Thomas looked disappointed. It made him smile. “It’s also didn’t hurt, that you’re cute.”  
  
“Oh,” Thomas said again, but this time with interest, surprise and sounded slightly pleased too.  
  
“Do you like boys, Thomas?” Minho asked, moving so that both his hands bracketed Thomas, resting along his sides. Thomas swallowed loudly, and Minho’s eyes tracked the movement, enjoying Thomas’ flushed cheeks maybe a bit too much.  “Or am I your exception?”  
  
Thomas sighed, looking away briefly before meeting Minho’s gaze squarely, “Either fuck me, or fuck me over, but please pick one.”  
  
Minho grinned wickedly more glad than ever, he’d decided to help out the Ravenclaw.


	2. Tangled Up in You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: If you’re a teen, some scenes are a bit raunchy with M language so..approach with caution. I will say I thought I was going in another tone, but it became a hybrid of two so...I'm sorry.

Thomas was in a great mood on Monday. So great a mood, his friends were passing alarmed looked between themselves—something he stayed completely oblivious to, looking forward to tonight.  
  
  
Minho had told him to be at the Astronomy tower at eight. Curfew had been stretched to eleven for the seniors starting at 5th year, so Thomas didn’t suspect Minho was plotting something to get him in trouble.  
  
The funny thing is they weren’t even trying to hide it. Sure there was some sensitivity towards the issue, what with exposing their choice in partners, but it wasn’t some secret rendezvous. At the same time they weren’t flaunting it either, because of the Quidditch thing.  
  
There wasn’t anything to flaunt, Thomas concluded as he waited for a decent time to leave the common room. It wasn’t like they were boyfriends or anything. They screwed, and they spent time together. Everything was simple and straightforward and that to Thomas, was heaven sent.  
  
Once the clock turned close to 7:45pm, Thomas slipped out of the Common Room. Teresa and Rachel were having an argument over their homework and Aris was in the dorm room doing god knows what, so Thomas didn’t have to bother with them.  
  
Thomas stepped onto the flat balcony of the Astronomy tower, were Minho was already waiting next to a telescope.  
  
“Okay, what’s this about?” he asked, in way of announcing his arrival.  
  
“Right, well you may not know this, but I’m from a Muggle family and on our side of things, planets are pretty standard and uninteresting—but here,” Minho gestured at the telescope beside him, “—there’s so much going on, it’s insane!”  
  
Thomas crossed his arms over his chest and squinted at Minho suspiciously, “You want help with your Astronomy homework don’t you,”

“I don’t know how you could; I’m older than you,” Minho pulled Thomas over to him by the arm and he went easily, an amused smile inching across his face. “The particular constellations that make that Sun sign of that particular month actually move, but only on a specific time and it’s tonight.”  
  
“Okay…so what sign is going to move tonight?” Thomas asked, still not getting excited at this form of spending time together. He was hoping for some…getting physical shit…  
  
“Mine,” Minho grinned. Thomas looked up at the dark sky, trying to figure out what the star sign of this month would be. He wasn’t that into astronomy…or was that astrology?  
  
“So how much time until—“ Thomas stopped when Minho pinned him lightly against the rough stone, staring at him unblinkingly.  
Thomas’ breadth caught in his throat; he had never seen Minho look at him like this—like a touch of tenderness, soft and…and something else.  
  
It settled something warm in his stomach that he didn’t want to over analyze, and Minho usually did an easy job in distracting him, but tonight it was different. Minho gave him his space for one, eyes travelling across his face less heated. And then there were his hands..the touch more of a caress, barely there but lingering and Thomas couldn’t help himself, leaning into it.

Minho’s fingers played across his features, over eyelids Thomas didn’t even recall closing. They glided down under his cheekbones up the bridge of his nose, then slowly to his lips, slightly parted, until a singular finger hooked under his chins, tilting his chin up slightly.  
  
This movement Thomas was familiar with but Thomas minded, only moving his neck forward rather than his body. He was slightly disappointed though receiving a chaste kiss, but not as much as he would have thought.  
  
“If…” Thomas was surprised at how breathless he sounded, considering they hadn’t even done anything. Not really. He licked his lips and tried again, voice soft in the quiet night, “If we stay like this, we might miss your…your thing,” he sounded so winded but somehow felt high as well. It was hard to explain and as his eyes fluttered open, Minho’s gentle smile didn’t provide answers, just more hazy half words if that was even a thing…  
  
“How are you doing this?” Thomas should probably be embarrassed but he felt calm and safe. More things hard to explain and not enough mind to try.

“Only because you let me,” Minho whispered, cupping Thomas’ face and landing another chaste kiss. Thomas wanted more. He was greedy like that, always wanting more even as he was now, but Minho gently pressed his shoulders against stone and despite the lack of pressure—nothing really holding him down—Thomas stayed like that, but not without expressing the longing for Minho’s usual frenzied moments.  
  
Minho reached his hand out wordlessly, and Thomas took it, allowing Minho to intertwine their fingers together. When Minho adjusted the telescope, Thomas watched him, noticed the flush of excitement on Minho’s cheeks. When Minho gestured Thomas look into the eye piece, he did smiling softly at the feeling of Minho wrapping his arms around Thomas’ waist as he stood behind him. When that moment happened—the archer shooting his bow—Thomas gasped in delight and felt Minho’s arms tighten around him, sharing his awe.  
  
And when he looked down, turning his head to the side to look Minho in the face, he closed his eyes easily, receiving the kisses he knew Minho would give him.  
  
He was not disappointed.

Minho understood him so well, responding to his restlessness beneath the calm, because his fingers curled in Thomas’ hair and Thomas turned in his arms, tilting his face to the side, responding to this kiss with more fervour, one that carried longer, still gentle in nature but Minho’s hands were anything but. Thomas barely registered his own, roaming the expanse of Minho’s shoulder, running down both his arms until he was holding on to them, feeling boneless in Minho’s embrace.  
  
He felt drunk but happy. And that was a combination that was more than welcome in his life.  
—  
Minho was sitting in the Great Hall with his team, gearing up for their game against Gryffindor. They left him alone during breakfast because they knew the Captain liked to keep to himself, getting into the zone. That and he would used this weird skinny device to listen to music. Some muggle thing.

Even his classmates left him alone; Minho appreciated it, head bobbing to the one song on repeat only he could hear because of the earphones.  
  
Being a sixth year student who had spent many a nights in the kitchens, he’d requested something special from the house elves today. Honey apple almond oatmeal. It was his favourite back home, and he’d given them the recipe and everything. The thing about house elves magic, when they sent the meals up, they’d sent his special order the same time too, so no one would suspect favouritism.  
  
Happily munching on his oatmeal, Minho couldn’t stop his eyes from sweeping the hall, gaze automatically going to the Ravenclaw table finding what he was looking for. What he saw actually made him pause in mid-chew.  
  
Amongst the sea of red, sat Thomas in green.  
  
Slytherin green.  
  
Minho felt an odd sense of pride and satisfaction, but something else too, and he couldn’t put his finger on it. It wasn’t the time for deep thoughts anyways, and his mind took him back to the formation strategies his team had been working on.  
  
Call it cheating, but coming from a muggle family, he had been brought up around muggle sports and his history with playing football, and watching rugby matches came in handy. Hey, it wasn’t like he was watching old matches of sports games, he was using what he knew from experience. That’s what made a great Captain anyways; the ability to use what you have and create more.  
  
There was a better more profound way of saying that, but Minho was quite happy with simple and easy. Kind of like him and Thomas’ relationship. His eyes strayed back over to Thomas, a small private smile lingering on his face.  
—  
“What are you wearing?!” Teresa hissed at him from across the table. All she got was a shrug from Thomas.

“Clothes?” he tried, knowing exactly where she was coming from, but today he was feeling a bit gutsy and decided to wear ‘enemy’ colours.  
  
Honestly the whole hate thing against Slytherin was a waste of energy. Whatever conniving people that house produced, were long dead. This was a new generation, new thinking. So why the same shit?  
  
He’d also purposely left his tie behind so as to not show which House he was from. It technically wouldn’t matter anyways, since everyone knew he was one of Ravenclaw’s Beaters.  
  
Thomas looked down the Ravenclaw table and spotted a couple other people wearing regular clothes or Slytherin colours, “Why aren’t you picking on them?” he asked, keeping his voice levelled.  
  
“THEY have friends in Slytheri—“  
  
“Maybe,” Rachel cut in, her voice slightly raised to be heard over Teresa’s outrage, “Maybe it’s because of Gally.”  
  
Thomas sent her a grateful look. In the following weeks of acquiring a ‘lover’, Rachel had been watchful of him until finally asking him outright if he was dating someone when it was just the two of them in the library.  

The following conversation had been a bit awkward with Thomas immediately and unconvincingly denying the possibility of seeing someone. In hindsight, if he hadn’t made such a show of it, Rachel might not have prodded as much as she had.  
  
She had gotten it out of him eventually and Thomas hadn’t expected it, but he was pleased in the way he felt lighter, having told someone he was attracted to boys.  
  
“Seriously Teresa, what’s the big deal?” Aris rolled his eyes. “If Thomas wants to wear green, let him wear green.”  
  
“As a fifth year Prefect, I have to set an example and one of the ways is to ensure our values are passed down through the generations of Ravenclaws, is to show a united front between my friends too…”  
  
“Ahh…” Thomas nodded. There it was. The problem with letting go of prejudice came from his own family. He loved Teresa and the two cousins had always been competitive against each other, but sometimes she was just too much.  
  
“Just because you dislike ONE Gryffindor, you’re wearing Slytherin colours?”  
  
“That logic is flawed, Thomas,” Aris agreed.  
  
“Pick a side and stick with it.” Aris shrank in his seat when subjected to his girlfriend’s glare, and went back to eating quietly.  
  
“I don’t have to listen to this,” Thomas shook his head, getting up from the table, “What I wear or don’t wear has nothing to do with you, so shove off!”  
  
“Tho—“ Thomas didn’t hear the rest of Rachel’s words as he walked out of the big doors of the Great Hall.

Back in the hallway Thomas tried to calm down by taking a walk. He was tired of his friends’ behaviour—either they were all in his business or they completely ignored him. And nowadays Teresa was always arguing with him about Gally and to give him a fair chance…like what? Why the hell would he do that?  
  
“Hey Editton,”  
  
Ah! Speak of the fucking squashed tomato-nosed devil!! Thomas didn’t bother turning around and continued walking away.  
  
“Editton!!” This time a hand clamped down on his shoulder, forcefully turning him around to face Gally and the three boys that always seemed to follow him around. Thomas fixed him with a glare but otherwise kept his mouth shut.  
  
Lucky for him, before Gally could say anything, a new voice behind them asked mildly, “What’s going on here?”  
  
Thomas would recognize that voice anywhere. He looked around Gally’s bulky frame at Minho. Glancing back to Gally, he found the Gryffindor frowning.

“None of your God damn business,” Gally growled. Thomas personally thought he was an idiot to say that to a sixth year Slytherin who had more magical knowledge than he.  
  
“Well you’re in my way, so clear out or wrap it up. What’s it going to be?” Minho sounded like he didn’t give a fuck, but Thomas noticed his stance was guarded.  
  
Gally seemed to also sense Minho’s mood, because he relented fast. “I wanted to ask Thomas here, about his sudden change of clothing attire thing,”  
  
“Ah yes,” Minho flicked his eyes towards Thomas, “It’s hard not to notice the switch,” All the boys were looking at Thomas now, but he looked only at Minho.  
  
“Uh, I—I was told green brings out my eyes,”  
  
“You’re eyes are brown.” Minho said flatly.  
  
“Oh funny! I totally hadn’t noticed.” Thomas pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek. God, Minho looked so hot right now…and those biceps. F _uck_!

“Anyways,” he ran his fingers through his hair, catching Minho follow the movement. Smirking, Thomas brought them down to his neck, and tugged on his collar lightly, “I’m rooting for you,”  
  
“For Slytherin or just me?” Minho asked.  
  
Thomas shrugged, “You can take it however you like, though…” his eyes travelled leisurely down Minho’s frame, taking in the flowing Slytherin Quidditch robes, “..I doubt you’ll be needing it, _Captain_ ,”  
  
The title was said in a lower key, and Thomas bit his bottom lip, already wanting Minho. Preferably with him on his knees, Minho’s fingers tangled in his hair, guiding Thomas’ mouth onto his hard cock and pushing it in, all the way to the back—  
  
Minho smirked, eyes darkening like he knew what kind of dirty things were running through Thomas’ mind as they stood in the corridor with Gally and his shadows. Actually Thomas had completely forgotten about them until Minho turned away abruptly and said, “There you go, an explanation.”

With that Minho pushed through them, and Thomas quickly made his exit then as well, before Gally could say anything else.  
  
He did stop to take a moment though behind a tapestry, willing his body to stop thrumming in arousal. Last thing he needed was to walk around popping a boner, especially if he was going to be sticking out like a sore thumb in the stands.  
  
It appeared as though Minho had followed him, because suddenly he was yanked out of his hiding place, his lips crushed against Minho’s. Thomas gripped Minho’s shoulders, wanting to separate them because they were in the middle of the hallway without cover, but Minho’s hands strayed to his ass, grabbing it and pulling him closer to grind against his cock—and Thomas lost all concrete thought at the action, forgetting he was supposed to stay quiet, moaning into the kiss.

"Eager are we?" Minho teased smugly pulling away from the now messy haired brunette albeit grudgingly. No matter how much he itched to ravish his boyfriend, he _did_ have a match against Gryffindor.

"Fuck, Minho," Thomas said breathlessly, unsteady on his feet. Minho tended to do that; melt his brain, and rob him of sense. He hadn't even tried all that hard to pull them out of sight.

"Later, after we win," Minho promised with a wink.

"Cocky much?" Thomas managed an eye roll despite the haze his brain was swimming in.

“You love it.”

Thomas made an agreeing sound as he leaned in for another kiss, which Minho allowed. When they parted, Thomas leaned against the wall with a sigh, knowing Minho should be going soon if he didn't want to be late. He wanted a good seat in the stands, but first there was a slight problem he had to take care of. It was like Minho could read his mind.  
  
“Don’t touch yourself,” Minho said in a slight warning tone and Thomas stared at him, a protest on his lips before he could think it through.  
  
“No! Minho you can’t—“

“It wasn’t a request. Now, be good.”  Minho smiled with satisfaction as Thomas’ arms fell to his sides reluctantly. Another chaste kiss later and Minho strode away leaving Thomas alone, horny and wanting.  
  
As much as he loved their game, Thomas wasn’t lying when he said Minho in uniform did things to him. Watching the Slytherin from the stands without getting to relieve himself? This was going to be pure torture, and Minho knew it.  
  
It was true though. Thomas let him. Let him take the lead, be in charge, and he loved it. Another thing not to over analyze.  
  
But what did it matter in the long run since they both got what they wanted: Slytherin winning the match, and Thomas on his knees, treating himself to the best view he could hope for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello Lovelies! Long time no see!! Okay first off, what did you think in general? With the D/s scenes, its more than I've ever done before with the thominho dynamic and smut is not my strong suit, and i don't think this IS smut, but it is more raunchy than my previous works, sooo... There's no escaping this is an M rated story with fluff lol Hope you liked. Seriously
> 
> All mistakes are my own. Nothing is beta read. Ever. LOL


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